"You are a strange girl, and you ask such odd questions!" said Emily. Then, looking into the face of Josephine, and seeing how true and earnest, in spite of their mischief, were the eyes bent upon her, she added: "But I do remember how good and kind you were to me at school, and I will tell you all about it!"
"That's a dear!" said diplomatic Josey, and only casting down her eyes a little and blushing occasionally, Emily Owen told the story of her love and her persecutions—of her father's pride and prejudice—of Aunt Martha's sympathy—of the relations borne towards the family by the young printer and Col. Bancker—and of the unpleasant affairs which had already occurred, culminating in that outrage at the theatre, since which time (not many days, however,) the lovers had had no meeting.
"Why, it is as good as a play!" said Joe, when her friend had finished her relation, and thinking, at the same time, how there was an unaccountable something in her own fortune or character, which drew her into acquaintance with so much that was dramatic in the lives of others.
"I am afraid you think me very weak and silly," said Emily. "You must do so, unless—unless—"
"Oh, I understand you!" said Joe. "You mean that I must think your love silly, unless I happen to be in love myself?"
"Yes, that was what I meant to say," answered the young girl.
"Oh, make yourself easy on that point!" said the incarnate mischief. "It has not been very long under way, but I have picked up a fellow."
"Oh, I am so glad! Then I know that you will understand me!" answered Emily.
"I understand you, and I do not think you silly at all," said her mentor. "I saw the young man's face that evening, and I fancy that he is decidedly good-looking. That is something. You say that he is honest, industrious and brave: that is a good deal more. Then you love him, and that is of much more consequence still. Never marry a man whom you cannot love, my dear, if you remain an old maid so long that they date from your birth instead of the Christian era."
Emily Owen looked up for an instant, to see how old this mentor could be, who talked with the confidence of experience and the gravity of fifty (so much like Aunt Martha); but she met a face very little older than her own, and she merely said: